Scars
by Aerenii
Summary: Some scars are visible.  Some scars are hidden.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: AU story... Rated M for language, violence, sexual content (mostly likely eventually, I think. I'll go M just to be safe) There is most likely no historical accuracy to anything in this story (as Nucky so eloquently said, "Why let facts stand in the way of a good story?") All characters, while based on real people or Boardwalk Empire characters, are solely my own creations for this story. **

Jimmy was the only one who knew my secret. In fact, he's the one who helped me carry it off for as long as I did. I think it was in his mind to deny the truth when Richard discovered what I was hiding. But then he saw the possibilities, and the life I'd been leading for the past eight years was suddenly over.

I first met Jimmy Darmody when I was fourteen years old. I was hiding under the boardwalk. He was skipping school, and apparently had the sheriff's department looking for him. I was huddled next to a pylon, so wrapped up in my misery that I didn't notice him until he had run past and kicked up some sand. I must've made some protesting sound, because Jimmy turned around and looked at me.

"Hey! Sorry!" he said, a crooked grin on his face. "I didn't think anyone else would be down here." He tossed his head to move the dark blond bangs that fell over his forehead. "Mind if I join you?"

"I'm not in the mood to be good company," I replied.

"I've got something that always improves a mood," he said as he reached into his pants pockets and pulled something out. He sat down beside me and offered me a flask. "It's brandy," he told me. "It's smooth, but it kinda burns going down. Try it. No offense, but you look like you could use it."

I took the flask from him with a scowl. I know I looked like I needed it, but it was still rude of him to point it out. I undid the lid, put the flask to my lips and tipped my head back. When the brandy first hit my mouth, I had to agree with Jimmy that it was smooth. I didn't really know what that meant, but smooth seemed like a fitting word.

When I swallowed it, I realized Jimmy's assessment of 'kinda burns going down' was about the same as saying the Atlantic Ocean was kinda salty and a wee bit wet. My eyes watered and I nearly choked.

"It may take some getting used to," Jimmy said as he took a swig. I was pleased to see his eyes watered too, but he didn't cough.

"So, what're you hiding from?" Jimmy asked as he handed the flask back to me. "I'd think a pretty girl like you would be up above with a line of suitors following." His tone was playful, with a jovial gallantry to it. It rather hit a nerve, however, and I took a longer drink of the brandy. I experienced something I had never felt before: the overwhelming urge to get drunk.

"Me?" Jimmy said after I was quiet for a long while. "I decided to skip school today, after I took off with that brandy. This didn't make Nucky happy, so now Sheriff Thompson and his men are scouring the boardwalk for me."

"You don't think it'll occur to them to look down here?" I asked. "It's kind of a obvious place to look."

"Nah," he said with a dismissive laugh. "They don't really want to find me. Looking for me is a good excuse for them to look busy without doing any real work. They get to spend this beautiful day outside while having every opportunity to speak with lovely ladies."

"You sound like you know a lot about the sheriff. Spend a lot of quality time with them?"

"Yes. But not the way you're thinking." That's when he told me about Nucky Thompson, who was like a father to him, and Nucky's brother Eli. Apparently they kept a close eye on Jimmy, trying to keep him on the straight and narrow.

"So you're running away from these men who only want the best for you?" I snorted and looked out towards the ocean. The tide was just starting to turn.

"Well, tell me who you're hiding from. The guy who did that?" He finally drew attention to my face, which was bruised and swollen.

"Him, and others like him," I said.

"Your father?"

"Don't know who my father is. My mother was a whore."

"Then who did this?"

And so I found myself telling this perfect stranger about how my mother realized she could make more money selling my body than her own. How, two weeks after my thirteenth birthday, a man came into my bedroom one night and raped me. About the long string of men who came into my bedroom, beat me, raped me, degraded me for being a half-breed, yet called me the most beautiful thing they'd ever seen.

"I've finally had enough," I said in the end.

"If you need help getting out of the city," he started, his voice filled with genuine concern.

"I know how I'm leaving," I said. "And if you'll excuse me, it looks like it's time for me to head out."

I stood up and started to brush the sand from my skirts, realized how ridiculous that was, and started walking toward the water.

I was almost to the water when Jimmy came running up and planted himself in front of me.

"What do you think you're doing?" he asked, gripping me upper arms. I stiffened and jerked away. Jimmy let me go quickly and held his hands up in the air, as if to say he wouldn't touch me again.

"Sorry," he said as he lowered his hands and stuffed them into his pants pockets. "Now, what do you think you're doing?"

"The tide is going out. I have every intention of going with it."

"You're planning on drowning yourself? You can't think of any other way to get out of this? Why don't you leave town? I can help you..." 

"I appreciate it, but do you think I stand a better chance anywhere else? I can't defend myself, and I can easily picture myself getting stuck in some brothel somewhere for lack of anywhere else to go."

"Then stay here. Go into hiding."

"Oh yes!" I replied with heavy sarcasm. "What a wonderful life! Stay locked inside some cheap boardinghouse! Sounds absolutely delightful!"

"We could make you...less appealing..." he said thoughtfully. His mouth tightened into a thoughtful purse.

"How? Cut my face up?"

"Nothing that drastic. I was thinking...disguise you."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Jimmy took me back to his house. He led me into his bedroom and opened up his closet.

"We're gonna make you look like a guy," he said as he rifled through his clothes. He pulled out a shirt and a pair of pants. "Go ahead and put those on," he said as he turned around. I looked at his back, then down at the clothes in my hand, then shimmied out of my dress and put the clothes on. They were too big for me.

"I look like some little kid wearing her dad's clothing," I said looking down at myself. Jimmy turned around and looked me over.

"We need to cut your hair. And we'll have to bind your chest, they do kinda poke out. But if we can get you to stand, walk, and talk like a guy, we can pass you off as a young boy for a couple of years at least." _ As if it could be so easy_

"And if it doesn't work?" I asked, still skeptical.

"Then I'll throw you out into the ocean myself," Jimmy replied with a cocky grin.

* * *

><p>The first person Jimmy introduced me to was his mother, Miss Gillian. She stopped home briefly between what ever she had spent the day doing and going to the theater to work, and found me and Jimmy in his room, working on my walk.<p>

"Hello dear," she told Jimmy as she came in. It was kinda odd, because she kissed him on the lips, but since I wasn't exactly sure how a mother/child bond that was based on loved worked, maybe it was normal. "Who's this?"

"This is my friend, Ebon Caldwell," Jimmy said. "Ebon, this is my mother, Gillian Darmody."

"Miss Darmody," I said, bowing my head just like Jimmy had taught me. My two hour crash course on how to be a guy kicking in. I don't think Miss Gillian bought it. She was looking at me oddly, but then again, maybe she was appalled at the obvious beating I'd taken. I had seen my face in the mirror when Jimmy cut my hair...I know I looked beyond rough.

"Ebon's been having some trouble at home," Jimmy said. "Is it okay if he stays here for a while?"

"Of course, sweetie," Miss Gillian replied, smiling at me and squeezing Jimmy's arm. "You can stay as long as you need, dear," she said directly at me, giving me a smile that I'm sure brought most men to their knees. "Well boys, you be good. I've got to go to work. I probably won't be home until late," she said to Jimmy as she gave him a hug. We watched her walk out of the room, waited in silence until we heard the front door shut, then I turned to Jimmy.

"Ebon Caldwell?" I asked. "Where did that come from?"

"Ebon's not far off from your real name, Ebony," Jimmy said. "And Caldwell, well it was the first name that came to mind that wasn't Darmody or Thompson."

* * *

><p>So Ebon I became. As time passed, I got the acting like a guy thing down. Jimmy taught me how to fight, and before long I was able to hold my own with the other guys whenever one of them got it into their heads to make a comment about what a pretty boy I was. And while they all bought that I was just some tall little kid (Jimmy knocked two years off my age and told everyone I was twelve), there was no denying that I <em>was <em> a pretty boy. I developed a mean left hook, and eventually the guys that we hung out with accepted me for what they assumed I was.

Jimmy introduced me to Nucky and Eli Thompson. The first time I met the treasurer of Atlantic City, I was nervous. This man was miles above the guys in intellect and I didn't know if I was convincing enough to fool him. I must've been, because he never said anything, and he even started giving me jobs to do.

Eli on the other hand, always looked at me like I was something he just scraped off the bottom of his shoe. Jimmy and I talked about it one night, and Jimmy said it probably had to do with the fact that I was mixed. "Eli's not racist, really," he told me. "He just thinks there's a certain place for black people, and in the bed of a white person isn't it." I don't quite know how that wasn't racist, really, but whatever. It was obvious if you looked at me long enough that I was mixed. My skin was fairly light complected, but my nostrils were just a bit too wide to be white, and there was no mistaking it when you looked at my hair.

But life went well for a few years. I was one of the guys, which was what I was aiming for. The only time things got tricky whenever the topic of women came up. The things the guys said nearly made me sick to my stomach. I wanted to yell at them, make them listen to what they were saying, but I couldn't d that, so I bit my tongue and tried to fit into the discussion. When I didn't have anything I could say, I just did my best leer and nod, like 'yeah, I'd fuck her six ways til Sunday and then fuck her twice more' was my philosophy in life. Every they talked like that, I felt like throwing up.

One day, Jimmy met Angela. Fell head over heels for her. Jimmy was nothing more than a brother to me, but him being with Angela really bothered me. She seemed so entitled, like Jimmy's universe should revolve around her. So when Jimmy announced that he'd enlisted in the army, Angela pitched a fit. "How dare you do this to me?" she screamed. "How dare you leave me! What about the baby?"

"What baby?" Jimmy had said.

"The baby I'm carrying! Your baby!"

Jimmy pointed out far more calmly than I thought he could that, if she had mentioned last week that she was pregnant, he wouldn't have joined the army, but it was certainly to late now.

Jimmy left, but asked me to keep and eye on Angela. Every day I stopped by to see her, and every day I got a scathing lecture on how men were worthless, only wanted one thing, and would leave you just as soon as they got it. I couldn't exactly argue with her on that, but I did try to make her see the greatness of what Jimmy had done, but all she could see was that Jimmy had left her. She had the baby, an adorable little boy who quickly became the center of Angela's universe. She took care of him, but still lamented loudly and often that it wasn't fair that Jimmy left her to raise their child. She never heard from him, and eventually decided he was dead.

So imagine our surprise when he comes home one day. He was limping from what, judging by the scars I eventually saw, was a severe wound. Jimmy looked older, somewhat wiser, certainly slightly jaded by what he went through.

He tried to get back in the swing of things with Nucky, and one night asked if I wanted to help him, his new friend Al, and a couple of other guys with a job. Sure, I had said, realizing at that moment that I had been dreadfully bored while Jimmy was gone. So, we went into the woods one night, planning on just heisting some liquor. To say it went horribly wrong is an understatement. When Nucky found out, he ended up sending Jimmy away again, and I thought this would be the last time we saw him.

But Jimmy came back again, and this time he had a new friend with him. A man named Richard Harrow. Like Jimmy, Harrow had been in the war. And like Jimmy, he had been severely injured. You could see thick scars on his face and neck, and I couldn't begin to imagine what Harrow must've been hiding with that tin mask he wore.

I knew Richard was trouble the moment Jimmy introduced us.

"Ebon!" Jimmy called as he walked into the casino Nucky had me working at as a bartender and enforcer. (Yeah, I guess Nucky never did catch on.)

"Welcome home, Jimmy," I said, clasping his hand. Even though we'd been friends for ages, we never once even hugged. I guess Jimmy figured I still didn't want men touching me, which I didn't, to be honest. "What made Nucky let you come back? I thought he wanted your head on a platter?"

"Yeah, well...you heard about what happened to Eli?" I nodded. No one in Atlantic City _hadn't _heard about what happened to Eli. Shot in this very casino during a robbery. Man was lucky to still be alive, truth be told. "Well, Nucky brought me back to help crack down on things. This is my friend, Richard Harrow." I nodded to the tall man behind Jimmy. He regarded me coolly from his remaining eye, his jaw working slightly. "Richard, this is Ebon Caldwell. What you do with guns, Ebon does with knives." Harrow gave a less than impressed 'Hmm.' Jimmy saying that made me think this was a man to be feared. Jimmy had taught me knife play when we were still kids, and I kept practicing whenever I could. I'd recently mastered throwing dead on with my off-hand. Jimmy knew I could easily slice someone to shreds if I had to, and one more than one occasion, I **had **had to. Jimmy was the only one who knew that I had found one of the men who raped me all those years ago, and after a good number of hours, left pieces of him in various trash cans throughout the city.

"So you're back for good?" I asked, keeping a wary eye on Harrow.

"Looks like it," Jimmy said. "We've got a bead on who shot Eli. We're just trying to find them."

"Well, let me know if you need me for anything," I said, pulling my cigarette case from my pocket. I handed one to Jimmy, then offered one to Richard.

"Not possible," he said in a voice that would have given me nightmares as a child. Then he gave me a look like he was intently studying me. "You. Didn't serve in the war."

"They don't exactly accept my kind in the army," I said, lighting my cigarette.

Harrow cleared his throat again, then said "There. Were colored regiments. Mm. In the army."

"I was too young to join," I said, the tone of my voice clearly saying the matter was closed.

Harrow just looked at me.

"Richard was a marksman," Jimmy said, more to fill the silence than anything.

"That explains why he's good with guns, then," I said blandly.

"Jimmy is. Also good with guns," Harrow replied. "But he, mm. Was not a marksman."

"Well, I wasn't born a butcher, but I can still skin you if I have to."

I couldn't understand what it was about this man that had me so on edge. I want to say it's because he was so obviously deadly, but when he was just standing there, staring at you like you were fascinating, he looked so damned ...innocent or something. I would hope that it wasn't because his appearance was so unsettling. I of all people should know that it's not what you look like that makes you who you are. But rationality has never been my strong point.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

A few days later, I stopped by Jimmy's place. Angela opened the door, looking pissy. She didn't say a word to me, just turned away and went into the bedroom, slamming the door. Jimmy was sitting at the table, looking pissed. I really wanted to leave at that point, because I knew it was likely to blow up between them again, but Jimmy was filling two glasses with whiskey, so I knew I was staying for a while.

"Where's your friend?" I asked as I sat down at the table across from Jimmy.

"Who, Richard? He's staying with Mrs. Schroeder, Nucky's lady." I knew who Mrs. Schroeder was, but didn't tell Jimmy. I just sipped at my whiskey and lit a cigarette.

"So, what's going on?" I prompted after ten minutes of silence.

"Hmm? Oh. Yeah. Nucky worked out a deal with Rothstein in New York. We know where the D'Alessio brothers are. That's who shot Eli, and shot at Nucky. We're gonna take them out."

"Need my help?" I asked.

"Not with them, but I want you to find the rest of the family, talk to them, tell them if they get any bright ideas about revenge, they'll end up dead like the others." He gave me the details.

"And you're giving me this job because?"

"The only other person I could ask is Richard, and he already mentioned that he had no problem with killing them, but I don't want it to go that far."

"Jimmy, I gotta be honest with you. That guy seems fucked up."

"He is," Jimmy said. "We all are." He drained his glass in one long swallow. "But, he's not that bad, when you can get into a normal conversation with him."

"What kind of normal conversation could you _possibly _have with that man?"

Jimmy shook his head and refilled both our glasses. "He's well read. Well, he was. Doesn't do much of it now. Believe it or not, he has hopes and dreams just like the rest of us."

I didn't know about that 'like the rest of us' bit. I can't say I've had any hopes or dreams since the first night my mother sold me. But who was I to argue.

"Things alright between you and Angela?" I asked.

"No," Jimmy said. His tone made it clear he didn't want to go any further than that. Finally after another ten minutes of awkward silence, I got up and left. I don't know if Jimmy noticed.

* * *

><p>Jimmy, Richard and Al took care of the D'Alessio brothers. I paid a visit to the more law abiding members of the family and delivered Jimmy's message. I think they were more upset that there was a black person in their house than the fact that their relatives had just recently been killed quite bloodily. In fact, the brother who was a dentist said, and I quote "If you don't get your damn nigger ass out of my mother's house, I'll call the police."<p>

It was things like that that sort of made me wish I'd followed through with drowning myself.

* * *

><p>Things didn't exactly calm down after the D'Alessios were dealt with. In fact, they got crazier. Miss Gillian, Jimmy's mom, convinced Jimmy that he should be working with his father. His REAL father, the Commodore. So Jimmy turned on Nucky, and took us with him. I'm not saying I personally had much loyalty to Nucky. I mean, yeah, Nucky had always been real nice to me and all, but everything I had I owed to Jimmy. But it just seemed wrong to me that Jimmy would turn his back on the man who cared about him, took him hunting, made sure he didn't want for anything growing up, and gave him a second chance whenever Jimmy screwed up.<p>

But as I discovered one night, trying to talk sense into Jimmy Darmody's hard head was like talking a brick wall into crumbling.

It was me, Jimmy and Harrow sitting around Jimmy's table one night. I still didn't really like Harrow, and I'm pretty certain he didn't like me. Not that it mattered right then.

"Jimmy, I think this is going to come back and bite you," I said. We all had glasses of whiskey in front of us...I think we drank more once alcohol became illegal than we did before, to be honest. I was watching Harrow out of the corner of my eye as he drank his whiskey through a straw. I understand the guy was missing half of his face, but damn, that slurping sound was annoying.

"It won't," Jimmy said. "It's really simple. We just start undermining everything around Nucky. Eli's with us, and so are the rest of the aldermen. We've got plans to take care of Chalky White..."

"Plans to take care of Chalky, how?" I asked. "The normal way you take care of a black man? String him from a tree?"

"No!" Jimmy replied, honestly affronted. "You know I don't work like that. And honestly, I don't know what the plan is. My father assures me it will be taken care of."

I snorted into my glass. I didn't exactly trust the Commodore. His fondness for young girls didn't sit well with me, for obvious reasons.

"Ok, so you 'take care' of Chalky. Then what?" Jimmy explained how the Commodore was going to arrange things so Nucky would be brought up on charges of election rigging, and how the Coast Guard would be on the look-out for any ships running rum for Nucky.

"Then your father just lets you take control of the city?" I asked.

"Well yeah. Why wouldn't he?"

Before I could start listing the reasons, Angela came tearing into the dining room and started yelling at Jimmy at the top of her lungs. Jimmy shot me and Harrow a glance while Angela ranted about how it wasn't fair that she was stuck in the house all day while Jimmy ran about town doing god knows what.

Harrow and I stood up and stepped outside. We could still hear Angela, who had gone back to her favorite rant: How Jimmy abandoned her twice and has never done anything to make that up to her.

"What an ungrateful bitch," I said mostly to myself.

"Why...do you say that?" Harrow asked.

"Just listen to her," I replied. "She doesn't get why Jimmy went to war. She never has. All she does is complain that he left. And when Nucky told him to get out of town or get killed, she couldn't get that Jimmy left for a life or death reason."

"She was. Pregnant, when he left. mm."

"And she didn't bother to say a word about it until the moment Jimmy announced his enlistment."

"You and I. Are not authorities, mm. On how a woman's mind. Works."

I almost lost a barked laugh at that. But I guess he was right.

"And then!" Angela yelled shrilly, "you come back from Chicago with that ...Frankenstien ...in tow!..." I looked over at Harrow. One side of his face was expressionless. The other looked devastated.

"And to add insult to injury, you continue to bring that damned mulatto into my house. Did you know that while you were in the army, he tried to seduce me?" I started towards the door, but Jimmy's laughter stopped me.

"Jesus, Angela! I'm more likely to believe my mother tried to seduce you!"

"Speaking of your mother! Do you know what she told me a few weeks ago? Do you? She said she used to kiss your 'winky'!"

"Did she? 'Cause God knows you never have!"

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me! I asked you once. ONCE! If you would go down on me like they do in France. Remember this? And did you? No!"

"What the hell are they talking about?" I wondered.

"It's, mm. Where a woman. Puts your cock. In her mouth and. Mm, moves up and down."

"That's disgusting!"

"No. It's actually. Mm, quite enjoyable." I don't know what expression passed across my face, but Harrow gave me this contemplative look, then said "You. Don't like women."

"No," I said without thinking. Richard gave a small nod and took a half step back. "I don't like men, either, if that's what you're thinking." I took a deep breath and admitted "I don't really like anyone."

"I've. Noticed." I glared at him. I couldn't tell if he was making a joke or not.

"...bet you did it to that damn photographer!" Jimmy shouted.

"I was never with the photographer, you ass! It was his wife I was sleeping with!"

Silence rang from the house. Harrow and I both tensed. I could picture Jimmy inside, hands curled into fists, jaw clenched, perfectly still like the air sometimes gets right before a major storm broke. I could see Angela, too. Stubborn, proud, glaring at Jimmy, debating what she could say that would push him over the edge. Their relationship had always been stormy, filled with moments like this. I don't know if Angela really wanted Jimmy to hit her. He'd managed to restrain himself so far. But how much could one man take before he snapped?

I slowly climbed the steps, Harrow right behind me. I opened the door just as Angela grabbed a glass vase from the table and hurled it at Jimmy. Jimmy ducked, and the vase hit the wall just behind his shoulder. He straightened and took a step forward. Angela had finally gotten the reaction she wanted. Jimmy stalked towards her with murder in his eye.

"Harrow!" I called, rushing towards Jimmy. Harrow was right beside me. We grabbed Jimmy by the arms and tried to drag him back. It was difficult, Jimmy was determined to get to Angela, but finally we managed to get him moving towards, and eventually through, the door. He fought us every step of the way, though. Once outside, we all but shoved him down the front stairs. When he made to climb back up, Harrow and I stood shoulder to shoulder between him and the door.

"Let me at her," Jimmy said through clenched teeth.

"No, Jimmy," I said. "I can't stand Angela, you know that. But I'm not letting you in there."

Harrow nodded beside me. His hand reached inside his jacket, resting on his gun. I knew enough of Harrow's reputation to know that I didn't want him to pull that gun.

"Let. Me. At. Her."

I slowly stepped down towards Jimmy, my hands held up in front of me.

"Jimmy, if I thought it would do any good, I would let you in there. But it's just going to make things worse."

"Think. Mm. Of Tommy."

I don't know how Harrow knew just the right thing to say, but at the mention of his son's name, Jimmy snapped out of his rage. Oh, he was still pissed. But at least he looked like he was somewhat reasonable.

"Let's get out of here, Jimmy," I said softly. "Walk away for the night, cool down. In the morning, maybe you can talk."

It was tense. Jimmy glared at the door. Harrow was a still, almost ominous presence behind me. I all but held my breath, trying to guess what Jimmy would do. I don't know how long we stood there like that, in total silence. It was Harrow who finally spoke.

"Go. I'll stay and. Make sure nothing, mm. Happens to Tommy."

Again, Harrow has said the right thing. Jimmy blinked and looked up at Harrow and nodded. He turned and began walking to my car. I followed, but as I walked I looked over my shoulder and saw Harrow standing on the porch steps. I couldn't see his face because the light was behind him, but I saw him give a slight nod. I didn't know what he meant by it, but I nodded back and then hurried after Jimmy.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Is anyone reading this story? And I realize I need to find other places for my characters to hang out than the warehouse... I think this is the 3rd story with the warehouse in it... maybe I should see if will add 'warehouse' to the character list for me? LOL (of course, they won't even put Richard on there, even though I've sent 4 requests, and he's an actual character!) **

Chapter 4

I took Jimmy back to my house. He sat down at the table and I grabbed a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. The bottle was full, but I had a feeling it was going to be empty before long. I poured, and we gulped it down. I poured again, and again we drank it down quickly. After four rapid-fire shots, Jimmy seemed to have calmed down somewhat.

"Well," he said, staring into his glass like the answers to the world was in there, "I fucked that up."

"No, that was me and Harrow's fuck up. We shouldn't have held you back." I hadn't actually meant it as a joke, but Jimmy still laughed.

"Ang said you tried to seduce her while I was away at war."

"We heard," I said, putting my feet up on one of the extra chairs. "But you know me and my uncontrollable male libido." I rolled my eyes, which made Jimmy laugh again.

"You and Richard heard the whole argument, didn't you?"

"Oh yeah. Not that it was hard, what with Angela yelling at the top of her lungs. And you weren't exactly whispering yourself." I paused, refilled our glasses and took a long swallow of whiskey before continuing. "I think Harrow may be in love with your wife. Not in the 'toss her on the table and have his way with her' kind of love. Or the 'run off to some foreign city' kind of love. But, I don't know. Like a crush or something."

"What makes you think that?"

"You shoulda seen his face when she called him Frankenstein. Half of it looked like the world had just ended. The other half looked like it always does. You know, blank and inhuman." I shrugged and knocked back the rest of my whiskey.

"You don't really like Richard, do you?"

"It's like I told him. I don't like much of anyone."

"So you two managed to have a conversation after all?"

"If you can call Harrow describing a lady putting your dick in her mouth and fucking you that way as a conversation, then yes."

"Richard said this to you?" Jimmy asked, laughing. I nodded as I refilled our glasses. "What else did he say?"

"That it was enjoyable and I should try it sometime." This made Jimmy about die. And when I thought about the absurdity of it I had to laugh too.

"You know," Jimmy said, lighting a cigarette and putting his legs up on the other chair ( I noticed he had to use his hands to really get that right leg of his situated, which made me wonder how bad it was hurting him). "I don't think I realized how short you really are, until you were standing on my porch next to Richard."

"I've been this tall since you met me," I replied, lighting my own cigarette. "Which is actually good. Everyone assumes I'm still sixteen or something. Last time I saw Nucky, he asked me when I was going to start shaving, then he gave me fifty bucks and directions to a brothel on Mediterranean Avenue, told me to go make myself a man." I paused, flicking the ash from my cigarette, then said "I still think this is going to backfire, Jimmy."

"How can it?" he asked, extremely confident. "We've got the backing of the Commodore, his friends, hell even Eli, Nucky's own brother!"

"Yeah, you got a bunch of people who stood behind Nucky and have now turned their back on him. But what happens when they turn their back on you? You end up in a prison cell next to Nucky? Or even worse, dead?"

"It's not gonna come to that," Jimmy assured me.

"I hope your right, Jimmy. I sure as hell hope you're right."

Of course, I said this, then almost kill the little blond bastard myself when I found out just exactly what the plans 'to take care of Chalky' were.

* * *

><p>"THE FUCKING KKK!" I hollered, storming into Jimmy's house a few days later. Him and Angela had reconciled, for the time being at least, and they were having one of those blissfully happy domestic moments where the husband sits at the table and reads the paper while his wife serves him a warm breakfast and coffee. I don't know where their son was at the moment, and was so mad that I didn't really care.<p>

Angela moved out of my way really quick, and I pulled my left hand back, ready to punch Jimmy's blue eyes black. But before I could swing, someone (and I knew who it was, too) grabbed my wrist. Faster than Harrow expected, I spun and had a knife out, holding the tip of it just below his right eye.

"If you wanna walk out of here with the half a face the war left you, let me the fuck go right now."

Harrow stared at me, his jaw working. I don't know if he was trying to say something, or just trying to keep from drooling. Nor did it matter. I wanted to kill someone, and he would do just fine.

"Let Ebon go, Richard," Jimmy said from behind me. Harrow looked at me a moment longer then released my wrist and took a step back.

"Look Ebon, I'm sorry..." Jimmy started.

"You're sorry?"I yelled, turning back to face him. "Sorry doesn't cut it Jimmy! Those damn ghost riders killed four men. They made four widows...took away four fathers. How does you're being sorry make any of that right?" I looked at Jimmy, feeling betrayed. I wondered, if I ever got in the way, if that's the same thing Jimmy would do to me. "You know what, Jimmy? Fuck your sorry." I turned, shoved my way past Harrow, and stormed out of the house.

I went home, and I got drunk. And I cried. I knew these guys. I'd worked with them at the warehouse, loading boxes, putting labels on bottles. If Jimmy hadn't broken with Nucky, chances were good I would've been out there when the Klan showed. Of course, if Jimmy hadn't broken with Nucky, the Klan probably wouldn't have showed.

It was nearly dusk when Jimmy knocked on my door. I opened it and glared at him.

"What?" I said finally.

"Can I come in? We need to talk."

I shrugged and moved away from the door, heading back to the table, which was littered with cigarette butts and empty liquor bottles.

I sat down, grabbed the bottle I was currently in the process of draining, and took a long swallow. Jimmy stood, his hat in his hand. He looked nervous and, I don't know...contrite?

"Look, I know it doesn't make anything better, it doesn't undo what's been done, but for what it's worth, I really am sorry. I didn't know what the Commodore was planning." Jimmy started twitching his bum leg and running his hand through his hair, signs that he was highly agitated. "All he told me was that he told a few friends to go have some fun."

"Yeah, we all know the kind of fun your father and his friends like to have," I said bitterly. "Jesus, sit down. Your fidgeting is making me nauseous."

Jimmy sat down across from me. I slid the bottle across the table to him. He took a drink and set the bottle back down.

"My mother told me to trust him," Jimmy said. "To go along with him. It would pay off, she said. I could learn so much from him. I feel so stupid!" He pounded the table with his fist, making the bottles rattle. The ferocity if it made me jump. "You know I would never, ever encourage the Klan. You know this?" I nodded. "I knew that to start undermining Nucky, we needed his liquor. But Chalky is loyal to Nucky. I thought they'd...I don't know, and that was stupid of me. To assume that these men would play nicely." Jimmy suddenly looked so young and vulnerable, unsure of himself.

"I believe you," I said after I while. "I know that attack isn't your style. I'm sorry I tried to hit you earlier." I reached for the bottle, but Jimmy pulled it away from me.

"I need you to do me a favor," he said. "And that means I need you to sober up."

"I'd really rather not."

"Rather not what? Do me a favor?"

"Sober up."

I honestly didn't. And not just because of what happened at Chalky's. Lately, things had been starting to wear on me. I was tired of being Ebon. Tired of being that guy that works for Jimmy Darmody. I was tired of being.

It had been this way for a while, I don't really know when it started. Maybe it started the day I went to the beach intending to kill myself, and now it was growing more unbearable.

"But you're willing to do me a favor?"

"Depends on what it is."

"Watch the warehouse. People know what happened. I don't want anyone getting in there."

"I don't need to be sober for that," I said.

"No, but you do need to be awake. Where do you keep your coffee. I'll make a pot."

"Have you gotten any better at it since that time you burnt the shit out of my pot?"

"Yes," Jimmy said with a laugh. "Ang has taught me to make coffee." He stood up and moved toward the kitchen. I will admit, Ang did make a really good pot of coffee. I stood up, realized just how drunk I really was, and sat back down before I fell on my ear.

Jimmy came out of the kitchen about five minutes later and handed me a mug. I took a sip and nearly choked.

"Did you actually pay attention to what Angela told you during your coffee making lessons? Cause this is like fucking tar, Jimmy."

"It's strong, and you need it. Now drink."

After three cups of Jimmy's coffee (it really wasn't as bad as I made it out to be, but it was pretty thick) and a splash of cold water on my face, I felt...not better, but sober at least. I assured Jimmy I could drive myself to the warehouse, told him to go home and do whatever it was he was planning on doing, and made my way to the warehouse. I had figured on a long, quite night, so I brought a book to read, a thermos of coffee (my own drinkable brew, thank you) and a couple of apples. I had my knives, I had a gun, and I figured I had a good six hours of solitude ahead of me.

I parked in the shadows, grabbed my stuff, and walked to the warehouse. I opened the door and found myself going cross-eyed as the barrel of a gun pressed against the bridge of my nose.


End file.
